Brinstar Contaminated
by Reading a Pulse
Summary: For millennia the army rocket drifted through space, carrying Armageddon in its metal womb. When it turns a ship full of Space Pirates into an abattoir of brain-hungry cadavers, Ridley arrives at the front lines of a war between the living and the dead. Metroid/Return of the Living Dead. Rated T for violence that never involves humans or near-humans. Cover sprite (c) Trickster.
1. Chapter 1

**August 18, 1985**

Pvt. Hewitt pushed a load of contaminated viscera through NASA's headquarters. The cart contained six oil drums filled with the remains of the undead, shredded into immobility by machine gun fire but still much more active than corpses had any right to be. Thumps, moans and muffled screams came from the cargo.

_So this must be what it's like to be prison guard in hell…_ Hewitt thought. He never imagined he'd have a reason to feel that way, but then the past few months had been particularly taxing for his suspension of disbelief.

The way Hewitt saw things, the impossible intruded on the real world in two ways: through miracles and nightmares. The government's nuking of Louisville, KY definitely fell into the latter category. Even though the Army had taken measures to prevent an accidental retaliatory strike against Russia, finding a cover story for the very noticeable explosion proved quite difficult and irreparably damaging to the President's re-election campaign. And the icing on the "Fuck you. Sincerely, God" cake? The nuclear blast contaminated the atmosphere with Trioxin, spreading the plague with the rain.

But what happened afterward could only be seen as a miracle. The cabinet quickly monopolized cable news stations that would otherwise have worsened the crisis through misinformation and sensationalist reporting, instead using them to inform and mobilize the public. Policemen and firefighters followed instructions to organize volunteer "undead response squads" that contained the outbreak as best they could through breaking the limbs of the immortal (though, fortunately, not invincible) ghouls. The eastern borders of all the Great Plains states became militarized. The civil war between the living and the dead may have been costly in equipment and lives, but it saved mankind.

Hewitt worried that after that lucky break, fortune might swing the other way again. He saluted the crewman who retrieved the cart to load onto the rocket and left, but not before asking, "How do we know this will work?" He tried in vain to fight off visions of the rockets breaking apart in the atmosphere and spreading the blight even further.

"Don't worry. We're reinforced the hull with layers of the toughest stuff that can still fly. Takeoff, atmosphere, space junk, won't leave a scratch. The ingredients are classified, but trust me, it won't break until it hits something big and solid."

"Big and solid…? You mean we're not launching them into the sun?"

"Bigwigs don't know how the sun would react to having Trioxin introduced to it. We're just going to send them as far away from here as we can."

An alarm sounded: *eenk* *eenk* *eenk*

Hewitt jumped, "Oh, fuck! What does that mean?"

"It's nothing. It just means we're about to launch soon. So I have to go."

"Thanks," He left, thinking of other things he could have asked had the alarm not cut them off. He knew that the unmanned rocket would be one of hundreds, and all of them would just keep going forward forever until they hit something. What if one of them traveled far enough over the course of eons to crash into a world inhabited by intelligent life? What if in saving itself the military doomed civilizations unknown to it?

Unlikely? Yes. But it was just as unlikely that any one sperm would reach an egg during conception. But with so many cells, one of them would make it and give birth to… what? A diplomatic nightmare for American's distant descendants?

_Well, I guess that'll be their problem, not ours._


	2. Chapter 2

Galactic Cycle 20.196.8

Aboard the Space Pirate Mother Ship, Private B-86 watched the radar screen. This mundane task was punishment for his cowardice in the face of combat with the hated bounty hunter, Samus Aran, when she intervened in a raiding party. Normally, the punishment for such an action was execution, but Mother Brain somehow saw fit to subject him to a job so boring that he would beg for death. As the ship's engines powered up for takeoff, Private B-86 was supposed to watch for incoming meteors so other pirates could blast them out of the sky before they hit the ship. B-86 envied the pirates in the turrets. At least they got to shoot something.

Just as B-86 was about to test his ability to sleep with his eyes open, a blip appeared on the radar. A meteor closed in, fast. The space pirate's momentary apprehension evaporated when he saw the object's size. It was too small to be any real threat. It would certainly burn up in the atmosphere before it even hit the ground. He chose not to report it to the gunners. The ship would be off the planet soon enough.

It didn't go away.

B-86 stared at the radar screen in disbelief. The object was still heading in their direction. He immediately pushed the alarm button. The gunners assumed their seats, locked on to the target, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened.

The coolant systems in the turrets closest to the meteor were malfunctioning. The only operative guns were on the other side of the ship, making them useless. The intercom system projected frantic, indecipherable orders. Private B-86 quietly soiled himself as a computerized voice announced that impact would occur in 3… 2… 1.

*BOOM*

* * *

><p>The rocket slammed into the Space Pirate Mother Ship with devastating force, killing everyone aboard, including Kraid, who was to provide heavy support in the pirates' assault on Norion. From her nutrient tank in Tourian, Mother Brain, leader of the space pirates, considered the implications of this. She was not so much concerned about the loss of lives as the loss of equipment. Even with the space pirates' advanced technology, it would take weeks, perhaps months to build a new Mother Ship. As for Kraid, a new one could always be grown from the cloning banks. Regardless, Mother Brain felt that her subjects had to know of this, so she broadcast the news of the ship's destruction via telepathy.<p>

When Ridley received it in his lair, he ground his razor-teeth. As a member of High Command, he had a great deal of privileges, with the hidden cost of having to clean up after idiots who from time to time made very expensive messes. The spoils of his latest raid would have to wait until later...


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Private B-86 felt upon regaining consciousness was every nerve in his body screaming in agony. His muscles felt as if they were being eaten by worms. His head was on the verge of exploding. Although B-86 thought he should be grateful that he was alive, he wondered if death would be preferable to his condition.

B-86 sucked in a lungful of air and let out a loud scream. Several other, similarly tortured screams answered. B-86 had no way of knowing if they were mere echoes. He pried himself from the twisted metal that was once his chair and crawled through the ruined halls of the Mother Ship. What was once a uniform system of rooms and tunnels was now a jagged, twisting labyrinth of scrap and wreckage. It was a miracle that B-86 found his way out._ In fact,_ he thought, _It's a miracle I'm alive._

High Command forbade religion in Pirate society, but B-86 couldn't help feeling that he was being watched over by some higher power. How else could he have had such great fortune? By the time he got to Crateria, he was already walking (or shuffling, really).

B-86 had the irrational feeling that he was being followed. Perhaps the pain he felt was playing tricks with his brain. The pain, which had subsided for a brief period, was back in full force. Thankfully, B-86's tortured eyes found a recharge room. _Soon my injuries will be healed and this will all be a bad memory_, he thought to himself.

B-86 entered the recharge station and activated the medical console. Nothing happened. _Is this some sort of sick joke?_ B-86 wondered. He wanted relief from the pain immediately. He hit the command buttons again. Still, nothing happened. _This is ridiculous!_ he thought.

"Why won't you work, you piece of crap machine?!" B-86 shouted. Apparently, the voice recognition system in the console was still active, because a chirpy, mechanical voice responded, "Systems will not activate because life signs are zero."

_**What?** That's not possible!_ B-86 thought, but all that came out of his mouth was, "Computer, there must be an error. I'm pretty sure I'm alive."

Apparently, no one programmed the computer to realize that dead things don't talk, because it continued, "Blood pressure: zero. Pulse: zero. Body temperature: 72 degrees. All circuits functional. No errors detected. Subject is deceased."

"**No!**"

B-86 opened his pincers and blasted the console to smoldering ruins with his galvanic accelerator cannons. "I can't be dead!" he howled into the tunnels of Crateria.

No one answered.

The undead space pirate's thoughts crawled from his lips, "The pain! It's getting worse! **How do I stop it**?" Desperate for a remedy, he tried to kill himself again. He firmly grasped one of his pincers around his head and fired his handheld laser. The blast went right through his head, yet still he remained conscious. Apart from overwhelming dizziness and a losing a good chunk of his memory, B-86 suffered no ill effects.

For some reason he couldn't explain, the space pirate was struck with the desire for warm, juicy… brains? _How are brains going to help me?_ he thought. He didn't understand it, but the drive had enough strength to pull him out of the ship and into the surrounding wilds. Private B-86 looked around and saw a skree hanging from the ceiling.

Instinct won out and with a quick "snap" of his aching limbs, B-86 leaped upward and plucked the skree from its roost. Ignoring the bat-like animal's squeals of protest, B-86 bit off its head and let the brain matter slide down his gullet. Incredibly, his pain faded away. The brain itself didn't taste that bad either, it had a spicy flavor B-86 came to appreciate. For a brief period, B-86 knew happiness. Then the pain came back thirty seconds later.

Like a junkie seeking his next fix, B-86 went off in search of more brains. Other space pirates crawled out of the wreckage of the ship, all of them mutilated in ways that appeared fatal. This macabre parade of the dead devoured the brains of any creature unfortunate enough to cross its path. Eventually, one of the zombies, a Pirate Commando, announced, "Why are we feasting on zebs and skrees in Brinstar when the biggest brain in the world is down there in Tourian?"

The other zombies immediately stopped what they were doing and sprinted in the direction of the elevator…


	4. Chapter 4

Panic seized the Mother Brain when she read the thoughts of the zombified space pirates. "Ridley, organize all non-contaminated personnel in Tourian! Go up to Crateria and guard the elevator! **The dead pirates want to eat me!**"

Ridley rallied the troops in Tourian and rode the elevator up to Crateria to take his post there. The space dragon did not scare easily, but even he was unnerved by the sight of dozens of mutilated corpses _running_ in his direction, foam bubbling from their mouths. "**Brains!**" they shrieked from their desiccated lungs.

"I see the crew," Ridley telepathically reported to Mother Brian, "but where's Kraid?"

The stone wall of the cavern burst inward to reveal Kraid, with a massive chunk of the Mother ship stuck in his torso. He, too, was howling, presumably for brains.

"D'ast!" Ridley swore in an ancient tongue.

"Aim for the heads!" Ridley shouted to his troops, reasoning that the dead pirates no longer relied on their vital organs to function (given that some of them had shrapnel where their livers, lungs and hearts should be), and therefore the only sure means of incapacitation would be through headshots.

This hunch fell flat on its face when he saw holes punched clean through the skulls of the undead… and they still kept coming. Thinking on their feet in spite of soul-crushing fear, some of Ridley's troops continued to shoot at the heads of the zombies in the front row until the skull was completely annihilated. The headless bodies became loping, flailing creatures almost as dangerous as their relatively intact brethren. Worse, complete destruction of a single skull proved so time-consuming that it offered ample opportunity for undead ninja pirates to leap onto their prey, crushing their skulls with their pincers and feasting upon the grey matter.

Meanwhile, the ki-hunters under Ridley's command flew over the horde, spitting acidic gobs at the zombies beneath them. This tactic did rather well until the flying insects had their wings clipped by the laser fire of the zombies. To the undead horde's surprise, they discovered that ki-hunters, as insects, had a decentralized nervous system. Therefore, to get all the brainy goodness from one ki-hunter body, they'd have to rip it apart. This fared very badly for the ki-hunters.

"Mother Brain, is there anything else you can support us with?" Ridley asked, "We're getting slaughtered up here!"

"What you see is what you have!" Mother Brain snapped, her agitation intensified by terror.

"Damn it…" Ridley muttered as he saw zombie Kraid slowly shuffle toward the entrance to Tourian. Fortunately the gargantuan reptile wasn't any faster in death than he was in life. He was a slowly advancing wall, crushing those too wounded to escape his path.

The gold pirates in Ridley's army fared better than their kin, because their armor could only be penetrated from the rear. But the scarcity of pirates who held that rank hampered their effectiveness, and there were too many zombies…

Ridley flew to the degree the subterranean environs would allow him, and bathed the advancing horde with fireballs. The smell of burning flesh permeated the air, and the flaming undead shrieked and panicked until they collapsed.

Ridley's troops cheered until the soldiers closest to the burning zombies were struck with unusually severe coughing fits, strong. Even after their comrades pulled them away, they continued to choke until their breathing apparently ceased.

_Poison!_ Ridley's mind blared. Thinking quickly, he dropped to the ground and beat his wings fiercely, pushing the toxic smoke back to the zombie horde. "Put out those fires!" he called to his subjects. Those capable of such a task tried to do so, but that would mean getting close to the fumes…

Nonetheless, the volunteers held their breath and doused the flames before them with foam, even though doing so cleared a path through which the zombies could enter. It was suicide, but through either bravery or simply not considering the consequences, many impromptu firemen gave their lives for their people.

Ridley mentally crossed "fire" off as a possible means of destroying the zombies. If neither headshots nor body shots killed them, and ki-hunter acid was in noticeably short supply, the only method left would be complete bodily dismemberment. Ridley paused to consider how he'd go about doing that until Pirate Commando H-34 emerged from the elevator to Tourian, with two shaktools (robots used for tunneling purposes) at his side. "Everyone with a pulse, get out of the way!" the crimson-shelled Commando shouted. At that, he turned on the machines, and their blades whirred to life.

The shaktools somersaulted into the zombie horde, sending limbs and viscera flying with their digging blades. Ridley marveled at this clever, if messy, solution. "Those too exhausted to fight, make yourselves useful and bring more shaktools up from Tourian!" he commanded.

The space dragon's elation faded when a giant, fleshy missile sped through the Pirates' formation, impaling several troops on its spikes until it slammed into a wall. Once of Kraid's three navel-like orifices was empty.

Ridley scowled to the extent his draconian face allowed him to. Kraid's skin was so thick that the only practical weak spot to aim for would be his mouth, which Kraid opened whenever his massive lungs needed air. Now that he no longer needed to breathe, he would not expose himself in such a manner.

Zombie Kraid continued to advance, making the battlefield smaller with each step he took. Ridley wondered whether or not this was intentional, trapping the living so the dead could feast. Or, maybe it was just a mechanical impulse. Either way, it didn't bode well.

Of all Ridley's attacks, only his sharp tail inflicted any noticeable damage on Kraid, and even then the wounds were quickly clotted by body fat. The undead beast was nonetheless cognizant of its predicament, and…

*WHAM!*

…swatted Ridley out of the sky.

Immediately upon impact, several hopeful zombies leaped on the space dragon, snapping at his skull to get to his brain. Ridley had never seen mortality the same way most sentient beings did. His race had extraordinary regenerative properties, and even if he did die, he could always be cloned. But, if zombies overran Tourian, the equipment would fall into disrepair, and Ridley would be gone for good.

"_I… could die…"_

With that realization, Ridley shook the zombies off, grabbing the more tenacious ones and throwing them into the shaktools. Any undead sent sprawling on the ground were chopped up by his flailing tail blade.

Zombie Kraid continued to advance. Panicked pirates showered him with laser fire, even though in calmer circumstances they would have known it wouldn't work. Shots ricocheted off the metal chunk stuck in Kraid's torso.

"_That's it!"_

Ridley scrambled up Kraid's thick leg and yanked as hard as he could at the shrapnel, pushing aside the flesh surrounding it with his tail. As Ridley expected, Kraid swiped him off with his massive claws. Though he knew it would hurt, Ridley actually counted on this, clinging to the giant chunk of debris so the force Kraid applied to knock him off would pull it out.

*SHLORP!*

The gigantic piece of scrap metal dislodged itself from Kraid's abdomen, opening a cavern of flesh. Steeling himself for the disgusting task he was about to take, Ridley crawled into the hole.

Pressed on all sides by fat and organs that had recently lost their means of support, Ridley nonetheless managed to claw his way to Kraid's spine and sever it with his tail. It wouldn't destroy the giant zombie (Ridley still wasn't sure what would) but at least Kraid could no longer walk.

With difficulty, Ridley pushed himself out of Kraid's girth. The wounded behemoth swiped at him, but couldn't pursue him as soon as Ridley flew out of range. Shaking off the gore covering his body, Ridley was glad to see the shaktools and remaining ki-hunters making short work of the dwindling horde.

Then, Ridley heard screams coming from Tourian.

_Tourian!_

Ridley rushed to the elevator and descended, finding what he feared most when he reached the bottom.

The pirates killed by the toxic fumes earlier had reanimated.

Most of the medical technicians were dead, with zombies chewing their brains. Others were standing on top of recharge chambers, firing fruitlessly into the foes surrounding them.

Ridley roared, drawing the zombies' attention, then ran through the room. Knowing that a bigger body usually meant a bigger brain, the deceased pirates followed him. Ridley opened the locked door to Mother Brain's chamber.

"Commander, what are you doing? You're leading them right to-" a medical technician protested.

"I know what I'm doing!" Ridley replied.

Mother Brain was surrounded by protective barriers and moats of magma. Ridley destroyed one of the floating platforms and hovered above a magma pool. Heedless of the danger beneath them, zombies leaped toward him. Ridley swatted them down into the magma, effectively cremating them. Once the creatures were completely submerged, Ridley held his breath and went back through the door…

…Only to find out that not all of the zombies were stupid enough to jump into the magma.

Ridley was dog piled by several zombies. Feeling their pincers and limbs scrabbling toward his head, Ridley opened the door again. Weighed down by his aggressors, Ridley crawled toward the edge of the lava pool.

As soon as he felt one of those pincers squeeze his skull, Ridley took the plunge.

As a native of Norfair, Ridley was more used to heat and fire than rank-and-file Zebesians, but immersion in magma still hurt like hell. The zombies, fortunately, didn't have as much endurance, and released themselves from their quarry as they thrashed about in agony.

Ridley pulled his beet-red body out of the lava pool, threw the last remaining zombie ("B-86," its serial number read) in as soon as it lunged at him, and crawled through the door. He'd inhaled too much of the fumes; black vines crawled at the edge of his vision. It took a herculean effort just to open the door to the medical bay. After crawling in, Ridley was relieved to see that it was empty, so no one would breathe the poisonous gas except for him.

_Him._

Ridley was getting drowsy, heavy. He could barely keep his eyes open.

Mother Brain respectfully shut the door behind him as he collapsed.


	5. Epilogue

Ridley woke up floating in a stasis chamber. Panic shot through his mind: "_I've reanimated!_" but the beeping of a computer that read his escalating pulse quelled such thoughts.

"You're lucky, you know," Mother Brain telepathically told him, "It required more gas to kill you than a Zebesian, so we managed to get the toxin out of you before you succumbed."

"I give my deepest gratitude, Mother," Ridley replied. Seeing the transparent canister of milky fluid next to his stasis tank, Ridley asked, "What's that?"

"That is none of your concern. Rest, my child."

"NO! I need to know what it is! I want…" Ridley lapsed into unconsciousness as sedatives flooded his system.

* * *

><p>At the next meeting of Pirate High Command, Ridley's worst fear became a reality. The chemical agent responsible for the zombie catastrophe was having its merit as a weapon discussed. The science division saw a lot of potential in a chemical that could bring creatures back from the dead, and as almost indestructible ghouls at that.<p>

"No! I have seen firsthand what this vile substance can do. It almost wiped out my entire army, and I myself barely escaped death, or worse. Lock the stuff inside a rocket and shoot it into the damned sun!"

Science team disagreed. They pointed out that similar objections were voiced against Phazon, and that program yielded some promising results. As for the casualties, "Many were lost to Phazon, too. Progress often invites sacrifice."

_Those fools..._

Ridley may have had a lot of authority, but the board included members just as prominent, if not more so. None of them were Zebesian, or even of the "Space Pirate" species proper. High Command belonged to a medley of races eager to capitalize on the genetically-servile Pirates' need for a leader. Among their number were a Kig-Yar Pirate Queen, a San'Shyuum crime lord, rogue Krill tyrants and Combine Advisors. Ridley expected Mother Brain to take his side, but she seemed to have forgotten almost being devoured by the undead. The Space Dragon's dissenting voice was drowned out by enthusiasm for this "death vapor." The first tests would begin in a week.

Ridley made a show of seeing his agitators' points and reversing his position, but inwardly he cursed the suicidal idiocy of High Command. Ridley vowed to sabotage the operation in any way he could. If it came to open civil war, that would be the price to purge the Space Pirate leadership of its intellectual Cancer. He'd do it for the sake of the Space Pirates, and though he'd never thought in such terms before, the galaxy. He cared nothing for the civilizations that would perish if he failed, but he knew a galaxy dominated by the dead would be… a much less fun place to live.

If it did end up coming to open insurrection, there would be no way for Samus not to find out, or—given what was at stake—get involved. Insolently rational as she was, she'd be forced to take Ridley's side in the conflict. Ridley resolved to exploit their potential partnership to maximize her psychological toll. For having "killed" him so many times, she deserved as much.

Nobody in High command—with the exception, perhaps, of Mother Brain—understood why Ridley grinned so widely.

END


End file.
